False Truths
by MissCrayons
Summary: A dream on his seventeenth birthday causes Harry Potter's outlook on his final year in Hogwarts to change dramatically. Draco:Harry
1. Prologue

**Title –** False Truths

**Author – **Akasha

**Pairing(s) – **Harry/Draco

**Disclaimer –** Alas, I own nothing, least of all the rights to the characters of this story.

**Rating –** R

**Summary –** A nightmare on the night of his seventeenth birthday gives Harry Potter an abysmal glimpse into the future. Vowing to ensure that the dream doesn't become prophetic Harry makes starts to prevent the inevitable.

**Warnings –** Violence in the first chapter, Slash, mentions of non-con in later chapters.

**Categories –** angst/drama

**Spoilers -** All books, including Order Of The Phoenix

**Feedback –** Yes please.

**Beta – **Melanie thanks hun.

**

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Prologue 

_I used to find myself longing and waiting for the future to come – now I  
long and wait for the past to return._

* * *

The school was a bloodbath.  
  
Wizards lay dead on the floor; the moon was hidden by the dark storm clouds that were unleashed their own fury on the world below. The smell of blood was in the air, the sight of it stained the floor, diluted by the rain and spreading over everything.  
  
It was a war zone.  
  
The Hogwarts Castle loomed in the distance and he knew that was his target. He had to get there. Tightening his grip on his wand Harry Potter pulled himself up using the tree next to him for support. He was badly injured; he had not even come face-to-face with Voldemort yet and he was already dying. He could feel his body shutting down.  
  
There was a spike through his middle -- it stretched the already torn skin more as he moved, but he knew to pull it out would be terrible mistake.  
  
His eyes were crusted with blood, the result of hours of fighting and having the Cruciatus Curse thrown at him, amongst other things. He could not feel his left hand thanks to the make-shift tourniquet Hermione had strapped on him to stop the wound in his arm from causing him to bleed to death.  
  
Better an arm than his life.  
  
Though Harry knew that he was just buying time to kill Voldemort and then he could lie down and die in peace.  
  
It will be nice, Harry sighed, no more pain.  
  
Limping towards the castle, manoeuvring through the dead bodies that were littering the ground, Harry made a point not to look at them. He did not want to see the blank faces of his friends and allies that he had failed to protect.  
  
He knew that amongst them there where an equal amounts of black-clad Death- Eaters but just because the numbers evened out didn't make Harry feel better.  
  
It seemed that there was nobody else alive. Harry knew differently though, many of the survivors had run to the Forbidden Forest for the cover of trees to nurse injuries and Harry prayed that Hermione and Ron had made it there.  
  
He would kill Voldemort.  
  
The medics would come and they would all be saved.  
  
He would be free.  
  
With a growl Harry felt himself fall forward, he detangled his foot from the body which he'd fallen over and bit back a sob. Gently he stroked the long red hair of the youngest Weasley, pulling his hand back he saw that it was now stained with the blood that poured from her head.  
  
She must have fallen and hit it hard after the Avada Kedavra curse got her, Harry concluded; her blank eyes were defiantly a result of that unforgivable.  
  
Hauling himself up again Harry gripped his wand tighter in his right hand. The castle was closer now and Harry started to walk again. When he got to the old, heavy oak doors he allowed himself a moment to mourn. The left one had been blasted apart in the first move of the attack, now the bricks from the side of it were crumbling away and it looked nothing like the welcoming doors he had come to associate with home.  
  
The courtyard was even bloodier than the rest, the fountain's refreshing water was now the colour of blood and Harry wished for once that it hadn't been enchanted to repel rain. He wanted nothing more that to see the courtyard cleansed.  
  
The gargoyles where now scattered brokenly around the floor, no longer perched high on the roofs, they had come alive in the attack to protect the castle.  
  
They had not lasted long.  
  
Nothing had lasted long in this battle.  
  
It had been six hours since Dumbledore had announced that there was an army gathering around the castle. They had spent an hour locked inside awaiting the Ministry to come. However, they had not arrived in time; Death-Eaters had snuck in using many of the secret passages and opened the to doors to the rest.  
  
Dumbledore had been the first to fall, rushing to protect his students.  
  
As he had fallen, the shields around the castle had crumbled and all hell had broken loose.  
  
Students had become soldiers in a matter of minutes.  
  
Shaking his head solemnly, Harry stepped through the door; he walked towards the great hall. As he looked inside, he almost retched.  
  
A large cross had been constructed out of the tables in the centre of the Hall.  
  
A body had been nailed onto it.  
  
Crucified.  
  
Hovering above the cross, bloodstained letters spelled out 'Behold What Happens To Traitors'. Nails had been forced through the victims wrists and ankles, Harry wondered why Voldemort had taken to such muggle brutality. Taking a step forwards Harry lost what little control he had over his stomach and threw up.  
  
Wiping his mouth roughly with the back of his numb hand, he closed the rest of the distance and looked up at the body.  
  
The pale skin that covered the naked body was stained with blood and looked almost transparent. He looked to the victim's right arm and saw that about an inch away from where the nail was, the dark mark sat proudly.  
  
Next Harry did the thing he was almost afraid to do; he looked into the victims face.  
  
His blonde hair was bloodstained and falling in a wet mess around his face, his head had lolled forwards and Harry hoped that he had passed out before to much pain had been inflicted upon him. The sharp cuttings of a knife mutilated the usual angular, proud features and the repeated use of the torturous curse Harry was all too familiar with.  
  
Then blood-shot grey eyes flickered open and Harry felt his stomach lurch once more, how this boy could still be alive.  
  
"Potter" the voice choked, his voice dry and raspy,  
  
"Malfoy" Harry spoke, biting back a sob as he saw the blood tracks from his once-enemy's eyes.  
  
"Help me" was the forced reply and Harry nodded. There was only one thing that could save Draco Malfoy now.  
  
He raised his wand and with a flash of green and a silent prayer, the body fell limp in front of him.  
  
Before he could get over the guilt that flooded his brain, he heard applause from behind him. He spun on his heals and looked into the deformed, mangled face of the darkest wizard history had ever seen.  
  
"Voldemort" Harry growled,  
  
"Indeed" the wizard steepled his hands and drummed his fingers against each other, "It is time" he spat with a finality that chilled Harry to the bone, then a thin hand raised the wand that had killed his parents so long ago. Harry woke up in his bed screaming. 


	2. Chapter One

**Title** – False Truths

**Author **– Akasha

**Pairing(s)** – Harry/Draco

**Disclaimer **– Alas, I own nothing, least of all the rights to the characters of this story.

**Rating **– R

**Summary **– A nightmare on the night of his seventeenth birthday gives Harry Potter an abysmal glimpse into the future. Vowing to ensure that the dream doesn't become prophetic Harry makes starts to prevent the inevitable.

**Warnings** – Violence in the first chapter, Slash, mentions of non-con in later chapters.

**Categories** – angst/drama

**Spoilers** - All books, including Order Of The Phoenix

**Feedback** – Yes please.

**Beta** – Melanie, much thanks darling. Also, teletext is a British thing I guess.

**Notes** – Thanks for the encouraging reviews. I know the first chap was dark {smiles innocently} just to warn you it's going to get lighter...then angsty all over again so enjoy the nice little calm bits. That was mainly for all you angst-lovers!

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**Chapter One**

_"When you step to the ledge of all the light you have left, and you take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you might believe one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for you step upon, or you will learn how to fly."_

* * *

Sitting bolt upright in his bed, Harry inhaled deeply. The dream's affects had not quite worn off yet and he was still shaking. His body was covered in a cold sweat and he could even taste bile in his mouth.  
  
Unconsciously his hand went travelled down his torso, to the area of skin that had been punctured in his dream. He realised the cause for his numb hand hadn't been the make-shift tourniquet but the fact that he had been lying on it. Now the feeling was coming back and leaving him with pins and needles.  
  
The sun was just showing its colour on the horizon and Harry knew then that he wasn't going to get back to sleep. Running an exasperated hand through his messy hair, Harry sighed.  
  
_It seemed so real_, he thought, scratching his wrist where a dream Death- Eater had sliced into his flesh easier than butter.  
  
Images from the dream still ran through his brain causing him to fight back a retch.  
  
Dumbledore dying.  
  
Ginny's body.  
  
Killing Malfoy.  
  
He reached to his forehead and gingerly touched his scar, which was surprisingly not hurting. Blinking sleepily, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and made his way to the bathroom quietly. Although God knows, his screams probably woke up his appalling relatives.  
  
Not that they would check to make sure he was okay.  
  
That would never happen.  
  
Pulling open the door he stepped in and locked it behind him. He checked himself over in the mirror and rolled his eyes when he saw a zit forming on his chin.  
  
"Bloody great" he groaned, stepping backwards and sitting on the side of the bath. He sat there for a minute, collecting his thoughts. Still dwelling on the dream.  
  
Some of his dreams were known to come true.  
  
Of course, most of them didn't.  
  
Nevertheless, it had felt so real.  
  
Vowing to tell Hermione about it as soon as he next saw her, he shoved it to the back of his mind. He wondered vaguely if he should be worried about his skills at repressing.  
  
The dark-haired Gryfindor left the bathroom about an hour later and walked to his room, a white straggly towel (the only ones Aunt Petunia would let him use) slung around his thin hips. Shutting the door to his bedroom as quietly as he could he dumped his pyjamas on the bed and moved to his wardrobe.  
  
Pulling on his most comfortable pair of jeans and a worn beige t-shirt he was about to go down and make breakfast for the family. Until he heard a loud crack behind him. Spinning around, eyes wide Harry saw nothing.  
  
He walked cautiously to the other side of the room. Shrugging he pulled open the blind and almost jumped to find Pigwidgeon unconscious on the windowsill.  
  
Raising an eyebrow Harry lifted the window open and scooped the small owl into his hands. Hedwig gave an amused hoot from her cage in the corner and Harry shot her a scowl.  
  
Tied to the tiny owl's leg was a letter, Harry untied it and ripped the seal on the scroll.  
  
_Harry mate,  
Happy Birthday! You still going to meet us at the end of your street later right? Mum says only Charlie's allowed to get you, says the rest of us will cause too much trouble. I swear, Charlie gets home and it's like the rest of us don't bloody exist. Charlie this, Charlie that.  
Didn't sleep a wink last night. Charlie let me and Gin get drunk on Fire whiskey, great stuff. Ginny spent most of the night running around the house claiming to be a multicoloured Power Ranger. Dunno what one is but I hope I never meet one.  
Mum and Dad came home early though and found her puking all over the kitchen.  
Charlie's not so bloody great now is he? Hah. Sod.  
Anyways Harry, see ya soon.  
Ron.  
_  
Harry blinked again. It was his birthday. Of course, it was his birthday. That's why nobody had yelled at him for screaming. The Dursley's left to go for the weekend away at two thirty this morning so they could miss the traffic on the way to Scotland.  
  
"Yes!" Harry punched the air gleefully, he left his room and hoped onto the banister, sliding down and jumping off at the bottom of the stairs. The parchment still in hand he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.  
  
_Thanks Ron. Pig flew into the window, I'll bring him. See you later – Harry. PS Hope Gin's better.  
_  
Running back upstairs, he handed it to Hedwig who looked at it sceptically,  
  
"I don't have anything to tie it with" he shrugged "think you just _hold_ it?" he took her undignified hoot and turning away from him to mean yes. "Thanks Hed" he scratched her head and she turned back, nipping his fingers playfully "take it to Ron and then you can go for a fly" he grinned and gave her the note which she clipped her beak around obediently and she took off out of the open window.  
  
Making his way back downstairs Harry couldn't help smiling to himself.  
  
He walked into the kitchen, clicked the kettle on and opened the fridge. The sight of food turned his stomach and he quickly shut the fridge door. Apparently, the dream had upset his stomach more than he was aware.  
  
Maybe, he decided, the safe option would be tea.  
  
Moseying into the living room Harry flicked on the TV, the bright colours of the morning cartoons illuminated the living room. He checked the time on teletext and found that it was only seven thirty.  
  
The kettle clicked and Harry wandered back to it to make himself a cup of tea. He opened the cupboard and grabbed the nearest jar of coffee; looking at it sceptically, Harry decided that he might as well.  
  
When Harry next sat down in front of the television, he was nursing a warm cup of black coffee. He tucked his legs underneath him and snuggled into an armchair. Remote on the arm on the chair he smiled, this was definitely a good morning.  
  
The next thing on TV was a Simpsons re-run. Harry's mind caught up with him and soon he was lost in his thoughts.  
  
A light pecking at his fingers brought him awake a few hours later; Hedwig was looking at him incredulously.  
  
"Sorry" he muttered, pulling himself upright and heard his back and neck click painfully. Rolling his neck, Harry noticed there was parchment tied to the snow owl's leg. He reached for it and untied it, saving the string in case he needed to reply.  
  
Harry was nothing if not resourceful.  
  
_Happy birthday Harry._

_ I heard you're going to The Burrow later? That should be fun, I'll be there too so I'll save your present until then. How has your summer been? Mine's been fantastic, Mum and Dad took me to New York and we've seen all these muggle Broadway shows! Did you know there's an American Magic School? I read about it in their version of Diagon Alley (Celo Road); it's out of this world, but I guess I'll tell you all about it at Ron's. Did you hear about Charlie being there? Should be fun, I've always wanted to learn about dragons. Love Hermione._  
  
Harry rolled his eyes -- or great, an afternoon of hearing about America, hopefully he could leave her with Charlie then he, Ron and the others could go and indulge in some Quidditch. Turning the parchment over Harry wrote his reply on the back, in ballpoint pen (which he had cleverly brought out of the kitchen).  
  
_Sounds great Mione. Yeah, see you there. My summer equalled chores, yelling and The Dursley's. Had a nightmare last night,_  
  
Before Harry wrote anymore he thought better of it, she would make him relive the whole thing as soon as she met up with him and he didn't think he would be able to do that without losing whatever delights Mrs Weasley whipped up for his birthday dinner. Therefore, instead of scribbling out the last sentence and making Hermione suspicious, he fell back on his more usual nightmares. Rather Ron's more usual nightmares  
  
_Snape in a dress. Not nice thoughts. Damn Neville. Love Harry._  
  
Sending the letter off with Hedwig, Harry once again checked Teletext.  
  
Ten-thirty-seven, wonderful, he had about four hours until Charlie would show up. Wondering what to do, Harry picked up his cup of now-cold coffee and walked into the kitchen. He poured it down the sink absently, looking at the sunshine out in the back garden. He walked to the conservatory doors and opened them, feeling the magnified heat touch his skin Harry smiled.  
  
Sauntering out into the hall, Harry looked at the cupboard under the stairs. He needed a way to open it. He knew that Vernon would have taken the key with him.  
  
_Wait_, Harry thought,_ he wouldn't have because he knows I'm leaving today_. Smirking to himself Harry went in search of the little bronze key. It was hanging up in the kitchen where it always did.  
  
Grinning Harry took it and opened the stuffy cupboard where he had spent most of his childhood. Inside were all his Hogwarts things. He pulled the large chest out that he hadn't had chance to even unpack before it had been banished away for the summer. His long fingers closed around his Firebolt and within the half hour all his things where spread over the living room floor.  
  
Books where open and parchment was spread over the thick-carpet the Dursley's had invested a fortune in. Hedwig was sitting on top on the television set, her head low and her eyes shut, Harry got a flash of what his owl would be like if he had her in a domestic environment.  
  
Lying on his stomach, knees bent and his calves gently rocking Harry was leafing through his last text-book. Potions. It said something about his personality when he was happy to read one of the most boring books in the world. He wondered what Ron would spend his time doing if he was left alone in his house for half a day.  
  
He wiped that thought from his mind quickly.  
  
Before he hand chance to thoroughly get back into his textbook there was a knock on the door. Standing up Harry walked to it, he swung it open and looked into the blue eyes of a muggle.  
  
"Hello" she smiled, Harry looked confused and raised an eyebrow, "Cheese?" Suddenly a plate of cheese was shoved in his face. Stepping back, Harry tilted his head to inspect the girl and the squarely cut pieces of cheese she was balancing on a china plate.  
  
"_Cheese_?" he queried, sniffing she nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"Cheese." She confirmed, to a completely baffled Harry Potter.  
  
"Er," Harry hesitated, looking at her sceptically. She looked younger than him, blonde hair and a school girls uniform that Harry doubted was completely innocent. "No," he shook his head, not taking his eyes off the girl "thank you" he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Kay" she grinned and before he knew what was happening she'd skipped off to repeat the process to the neighbours on his left. Watching her in a mix of wonder and confusion Harry failed to notice the red-haired boy walk up his drive.  
  
"I _guess_ she's cute if you're into that sort of thing" Charlie Weasley offered,  
  
"What?" Harry's head snapped back and he smiled warmly as he saw one of the older Weasley's "No, she" Harry paused again trying to wrap his mind around it, "Offered me cheese"  
  
"Was it good cheese?" Charlie wondered,  
  
"I don't know, I didn't" Harry stopped and for the first time fully took in the situation "_You're_ early." Charlie just shrugged and nodded.  
  
Charlie was at least six foot. His hair was longer than when Harry had last seen him, it was still deep red and tied back with a thick leather band. He was more tanned and he had a white tank top on which showed the toned muscles of his arms with rusted boot-cut jeans. Harry absently wondered when the Weasley's had gained muggle dress sense.  
  
"So, you ready? Or do you want to stand on the door step gawking at me all day?" Charlie joked, Harry blanched.  
  
"I w-wasn't _gawking_" Harry insisted, stepping aside to let Charlie into the house,  
  
"Course not" Charlie smiled, looking at the mess on the floor. He waved his wand and suddenly everything jumped into the case neatly. Robes folded themselves and the books closed neatly. "You taking your old textbooks?" Charlie wondered.  
  
"Yeah," Harry managed to pull himself back to reality "Usually Madame Pince likes to collect them."  
  
"Right-o" Charlie grinned once more.  
  
"So, we flooing?" Harry asked, moving towards his chest and tipping it up.  
  
"Portkey" Charlie corrected, Harry paled.  
  
"Er, I don't really like portkeys" he explained.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll be right there with you" Charlie smiled.  
  
Harry was only slightly reassured. Nodding, he instructed Charlie to make himself at home while he went to grab his things from upstairs. He tossed most of it into Hedwig's cage for easy transport. When he got back downstairs, he shut the conservatory doors and locked them, then locked the front door.  
  
"Ready?" Charlie asked, closing the window that Hedwig had flown out of; Harry thought it would be easier for her to fly over to the Burrow. He didn't know how animals took to portkeys.  
  
"Yeah" Harry shrugged, the queasy feeling bubbling in his stomach, he really disliked this particular method of travel. Owing a lot to his fourth year his sub-conscious concluded. Charlie stepped close to him and for a moment the butterflies in Harry's stomach fluttered for an entirely different reason. Charlie placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and stepped in close. He was about a head taller than Harry was and as he looked down Harry could feel the older Weasley's breath on his lips,  
  
"You smell nice" Idiot, Harry chided mentally, looking down to the floor and fighting the blush that crept over his cheeks.  
  
"Is that so?" Charlie smirked and his hand fell from Harry's arm to squeeze his hand. Harry took that as a gesture of re-assurance and looked up. Their noses touched and Harry blushed again. Charlie was smirking. He pulled the portkey up between them, it was a shoe. "Grab on".  
  
Harry did just that. The unpleasant swirling in his stomach was just how he remembered it, the feeling that the world was turning upside down and being torn in two directions that almost made him heave.  
  
Then it was over and he was standing outside the Burrow. He looked around, but was only aware of how close he was to Charlie. When he stepped away, a rush of cool air hurried to fill the space between them.  
  
With a wink Charlie turned and walked into the house.  
  
With an excited shiver Harry followed.  
  
"**Harry**!" came the excited yell as soon as he stepped into the house, he was enfolded by two strong arms and the familiar smell of his best friend.  
  
"Ron" he laughed, turning around to be greeted with the warm eyes of Ronald Weasley,  
  
"Happy birthday, mate!" he grinned, "I'd give you your present, but mum says we have to wait until tonight" he shrugged.  
  
"That's alright" Harry smiled, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Charlie was looking at him with a strange expression; he turned his attention back to his friend.  
  
"Harry, dear" Molly Weasley bustled past her sons and hugged the dark- haired boy tightly, "glad to see you made it here alright" she shot Charlie a warning glace, he looked suitably apologetic.  
  
"Yeah, nice to see he didn't get Harry _drunk_ as well" Ron added, grinning. Mrs Weasley made a disproving sound in the back of her throat. Harry smiled at his attempt to rub salt into the wound. Harry didn't miss the glare Charlie sent his brother behind Mrs Weasley's back.  
  
"Ronald" Mrs Weasley chided, "Stop aggravating your brother and take Harry to unpack."  
  
With a sigh Ron nodded and inclined his head towards the stairs, Harry smiled and followed Ron up to his room. His luggage floated behind him in what must have been an aid from Mrs Weasley.  
  
"So I hear Hermione's coming down later?" Harry queried as his friend opened the poster-covered door to his room. Harry fought his way through the clothes on the floor and dumped his stuff in a corner.  
  
"Yeah," Harry ignored the blush that rose onto Ron's cheeks.  
  
"Shouldn't you have tidied up?" Harry asked, laughing as he picked up what could only be described as foul smelling underwear. Ron grabbed it and scowled, then threw it under his bed.  
  
"There, tidied!" Ron winked, Harry shook his head in disbelief.


End file.
